


Initiate

by KitChat (Kitchat)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, u dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitchat/pseuds/KitChat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac thinks Combeferre has a problem: Combeferre doesn't go out enough.</p><p>For the Courferre Exchange 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initiate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandoraStark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraStark/gifts).



> Ah jeez it's a little late, but I hope you enjoy!

"So!" Combeferre doesn't even startle when Courfeyrac drops himself down into the seat beside him in the library. Someone shushes Courfeyrac from the side, and Courfeyrac has a moment of decency to look sheepish before he lowers his voice and whispers again to Combeferre, "So."

"So," Combeferre agrees without looking up from his textbook. He hears Courfeyrac huff quietly and smiles quietly to himself; Courfeyrac doesn't even notice the little noises he makes.

"So there's a problem," Courfeyrac starts again, his tone a little more serious. He waits until Combeferre has lifted his head to look at him and give him a little "go on" nod. "You have a problem."

"Do I?"

"You do, but you don't realize it. Which is half of the problem," Courfeyrac declares, "but don't you worry, Ferre! It's easily fixed."

"Now what exactly is this problem I am supposedly unaware of?" Combeferre returns to his textbook, although he makes a point to keep his head inclined towards Courfeyrac to show that he's not tuning his friend out.

"You don't go out enough," Courfeyrac explains. He notices Combeferre's eyebrow raise and adds accusingly, "See? You're already thinking 'that's not a problem'! Don't deny it, you are, aren't you?"

Combeferre doesn't deny it.

Courfeyrac shakes his head sadly, causing his dark hair to go flopping into his eyes, "It's been two years at this school, and you can't name more than two people as your close friends."

"That's not true."

"Yeah? Try me. Name three people you'd consider friends."

"You," Combeferre says immediately, "and Enjolras." He then has to pause for a moment to think (and try to ignore Courfeyrac's growing smirk. Goddamn it, Courfe, you're being a distraction). "And... Jehan...?"

"You speak to Jehan regularly, but you don't make it a point to hang out with them or to do other things that friends usually do. I'd say you two are more close acquaintances," Courfeyrac's smug grin has grown to the size it only gets when he knows he is right. Combeferre is torn between feeling charmed or exasperated. He decides to settle for mildly amused.

"I don't see how it's a problem," Combeferre persists in saying, "you and Enjolras are more than enough company for me."

"Flattery," Courfeyrac says with a roll of his eyes, "will get you nowhere. But it's appreciated!"

"A pity. I was hoping to render you speechless so we may end this topic."

"What a shame it didn't work out then!" Courfeyrac's phone chimes at that moment, and he digs it out of his pocket while ignoring the dirty glare the student at the other end of the table is giving him. "Aw shoot. Mom wants me to pick up my sister from school today, so I have to go now. I'll text you later," he jabs a finger at Combeferre. "Just because I'm walking away right now doesn't mean we're finished with this conversation!"

Combeferre only smiles in reply and waves Courfeyrac goodbye.  
\-----  
Courfeyrac remains true to his word. An hour after Combeferre returns from the library and turns on his phone, he notices the flood of texts that Courfeyrac has sent him.

_Ferre text me_   
_Ferre_   
_Ferre_   
_Oh right you're still at the library_   
_Your phone is probably off, too_   
_Wow Ferre, here I needed you and you've turned a blind eye to my woes_   
_Or ear_   
_But as I was saying, u should really consider getting yourself out there a bit more_   
_I mean, yeah, we keep you on your toes most of the time, but it doesn't hurt to make a few more friends in high school_   
_Deep meaningful, lifelong connections and all that_   
_Or, you know, enough people in your network to get you anywhere you want_   
_I can help u with that if u want_

"I'm back," he tells his mother.

"Welcome back," she says warmly, momentarily putting down the book she was reading, "how was school?"

"Same as usual," he replies. "We're trying to get an activist group formed at school, but so far it's just conjecture."

"By 'we', you mean the two friends from before? Courfeyrac and… Enjolras was it?" Combeferre nods, and his mother smiles. "You should invite them over again some time," she suggests.

"Someday. When all of us aren't busy," he promises.

"You're always busy, dear," his mother points out. "If you're going to wait until all of you have a free slot, I'm afraid that won't be happening any time soon. Invite them over the next time you boys need a place to talk about your activist group."

"I'll consider it," Combeferre assures her before turning and leaving for his room. _Hmm_ , he thinks as he pulls out his phone and sends Courfeyrac a text.

_Courfeyrac, I agree._   
_If we're going to start an activist group, I'm going to need to know how to be more approachable—we all know Enjolras will not be concerned with it._   
_If you are still offering, I would be glad to accept._

The reply comes barely ten second later.  
 _Sounds good  
When do we meet?_

Before he can lose the nerve, Combeferre types out a message and quickly sends it.  
 _Saturday afternoon, my house._

_I'll be there_

Combeferre exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding.  
\-----  
Saturday rolls around much too fast for Combeferre's liking. It seems like he only just texted the invite to Courfeyrac yesterday, when there comes a knock on the door.

"I've got it," he calls to his mother even as his hands close around the handle.

It's Courfeyrac. Who else would it be? Courfeyrac greets Combeferre with his trademark wide grin, "Hi."

Combeferre nods his greeting, "Come inside."

Courfeyrac and Combeferre's mother greet each other with an enthusiasm that Combeferre doesn't know if he should find endearing or alarming.

"Courfeyrac! What a surprise to see you here! I was thinking that I would never be able to see my son making friends anymore," Combeferre's mother says as greeting, pulling Courfeyrac in for a hug.

"We're here to get some activist group stuff done," he said with a grin. "So I guess you'll have to continue awaiting the day when he decides to relax a little."

"I am relaxed," protests Combeferre, whose statement is promptly disregarded on ground of him being a workaholic.

"Have fun, and call me if you need anything," says his mother, relinquishing her hold on Courfeyrac. The two friends wave to her as they went up to Combeferre's room.

"Right then," Courfeyrac says as they walk into Combeferre's room. "I'll give you the crash course on Courfeyrac's Law of Likeability."

"There is no such law," Combeferre says, amused.

"Laws are being made all the time, like I just did," Courfeyrac sits himself down on Combeferre's bed, waving his hand for Combeferre to join him. "Which brings me to the first point in today's lesson."

"Make laws to be personable?"

"Smart aleck, you. But no. If you make laws, people are generally less likely to like you. I mean, look at politicians. No, the Law of Likeability is composed of one simple rule: lead, and they shall follow," Courfeyrac sits back with a (frankly adorable) expectant grin on his face. "Well?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate on that," Combeferre says, smiling a little when Courfeyrac huffed.

"Look, Ferre. When you meet people, you're mostly happy to just… let them talk, right?" Courfeyrac waves a hand, shushing Combeferre before he could get started, "No, it's not a bad thing. You're a very considerate listener, Ferre. But if you listen all the time, it's not easy to get yourself out there. Especially since you're more content to wait for people to talk to you."

Combeferre is about to protest, but then he remembers how his friendships with both Courfeyrac and Enjolras were initiated by the other party. So maybe Courfeyrac has a point.

Courfeyrac steamrolls on, "The most important thing about initial interactions, Ferre, is to provide a lead. People are almost always waiting around for someone else to start up conversation, and even if they aren't, they're usually pretty happy to have someone else take the first step. So, you've got to be willing to do that.

"Which brings me to the next part of Courfeyrac's Law of Likeability. First impressions are important. Really important. Yeah, it's true a lot of our first impressions aren't always correct, but it's crucial in deciding if we like a person or not. If you present yourself as charming and likeable at first, people are generally more ready to see you as agreeable," Courfeyrac leans in and whispers gravely, "which is the secret to my success."

Grinning to himself, Combeferre leans in as well and whispers in the same tone, "And you're trusting me with this vital information?"

Courfeyrac pats Combeferre's thigh, saying with a conspiring wink, "Guard it well." His hand retreats, and Courfeyrac settles himself down more comfortably on the bed, "Well that's about all I can tell you, really. If you need a stellar demonstration, just think back to our first interaction a few years back. It's a perfect, textbook example."

Combeferre can't stifle the snort, "Textbook example? Sure, Courfeyrac, sure."

Courfeyrac sticks his tongue out at Combeferre like the mature, young adult he is, "Anyways, I suppose you'll have to go out of your way to try and meet people now. Understanding it is one thing, and putting it into practice is another thing entirely. You know that, Ferre. So just call me up and I'll help chaperone your first foray into social interaction." The brunet pushes himself up, evidently getting ready to slide off the bed.

He should agree with that. It's a reasonable and friendly enough offer, despite how Courfeyrac may have worded it. But for the life of him, Combeferre cannot explain what makes him tentatively reach out and place a hand on Courfeyrac's thigh and holding him in place. "We should try it once," he says, mouth drier than the Sahara Desert, "while the lesson is still fresh."

Courfeyrac couldn't have looked more surprised if Combeferre had started speaking in a foreign language about returning back home to Mars. For a moment, all Courfeyrac did was stare wide-eyed at Combeferre.

Despite his heart hammering away behind his rib cage, Combeferre does not remove his hand from Courfeyrac's leg. Courfeyrac does not pull away.

It felt like hours, though in reality couldn't have been more than a minute, but Courfeyrac's shock slowly subsides, and that small, sly grin that Combeferre can never decide if it's endearing or alarming appears. "Why Combeferre," he says, "you sure are a fast learner."

"I had a great teacher."

"Aww," Courfeyrac actually coos, sly grin slipping and a completely lopsided, completely likeable grin takes its place. "Keep going, then. Let's see if you remember what happens next."

Courfeyrac is giving him the go-ahead. Combeferre is sure of it; his friend is rarely oblivious, especially when it comes to the feelings of others. Besides, that sly grin told Combeferre that Courfeyrac had been expecting this to happen. If that wasn't permission to proceed, then what was? Quelling his suddenly jarred nerves, Combeferre leans in slowly. He stops before his lips can touch Courfeyrac's, a silent question for permission.

Courfeyrac sighs at that, but continues to grin, "Well?"

Combeferre closes the remaining space between the two of them. He hears the air leave Courfeyrac's lungs in a contented sigh, and he leans in again to initiate contact.

When he pulls back, Courfeyrac pretends to think seriously. "Hmm, it was nice," he says. Combeferre thinks that Courfeyrac means the kiss, until he adds, "But if you had read my signals right, you would have realized I gave you the okay months ago. But since you are just starting out, I suppose it wasn't too shabby on your part."

"Are you honestly trying to grade my attempts at romantic initiation?" Combeferre shakes his head sadly, and sighs as if some great grievance has been done to him. "You great dork."

"Look who's speaking," Courfeyrac says as he leans in for a kiss.  
\-----  
About two months later, Les Amis d'ABC has its first general member meeting. The meeting room in the small café is packed full (Combeferre is sure that they're a fire hazard by now), thanks to their friends spreading the word.

Courfeyrac is the first to speak, to get everyone settled down and relaxed with his friendly manner. He introduces himself, Combeferre, and Enjolras before he gives them a short run-down of the goals they have in mind for the year. He circulates a few pieces of paper and a pen, telling people who are interested to write down their names and emails.

Combeferre goes second, going into detail all the plans that he and Enjolras have discussed so far. He answers a few questions, and takes a few suggestions for issues to focus on in the future before he turns the microphone over to Enjolras.

Enjolras is there, of course, to provide a blinding ray of light for everyone to follow. The moment he begins his passionate speech, the vague murmuring that has been permeating the air during Combeferre and Courfeyrac's sessions stops. Every last person in the room has their attention solely on Enjolras and all his blazing righteous fury. Even Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who have both seen this on multiple occasions, are drawn in.

When Enjolras finishes and walks away from the makeshift podium, the room erupts with applause. Courfeyrac turns to Combeferre and shouts something along the lines of, "Yes!" Combeferre just smiles back and applauds Enjolras.

Eventually, the students trickle out and leave, though not before Courfeyrac manages to wheedle out a few pages worth of subscribers. They say goodbye to Enjolras, though their blond friend is too busy arguing with a messy, dark haired art student.

Courfeyrac links his arms with Combeferre as they step outside into the night, "You did great with that. Everyone absolutely loves you."

Combeferre snorts, "Not as much as they love Enjolras."

Courfeyrac shrugs, "It's hard to best that, you know."

They walk in silence for a bit, content to be out and awake when most of the city was heading to sleep. In the dimness between two streetlights, Combeferre says quietly, "I would like to thank you."

"There are a lot of things I would like to be thanked for, but you're going to have to elaborate."

"Remember when you kept pestering me about learning to initiate social interaction? I'd like to thank you for it. It definitely helps me."

"You're welcome, and don't you forget it," Courfeyrac says with a wink. "Although I'm a little disappointed. I was hoping for a 'thank you, Courfe, for your existence'."

"That too, I suppose," Combeferre says with a playful sigh, leaning in towards his boyfriend.

"You're welcome, I suppose," Courfeyrac replies, closing the distance.


End file.
